


Sleepwalker's eyes are open

by Johnnyfer



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus is arrogant as fuck, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First War with Voldemort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Megalomaniac! Albus, Regulus is a good boy in this one, Regulus is cynical, Regulus is very stressed out, Time Travel, Young Albus Dumbledore, kind of, these two have a lot in common ok, tho they literally are called "black" and "white", writer's first language is not english
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26636119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnnyfer/pseuds/Johnnyfer
Summary: Everytime Albus falls asleep in 1900, he wakes up in 1979.And Regulus Arcturus Black is always there.
Relationships: Regulus Black/Albus Dumbledore
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17





	Sleepwalker's eyes are open

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beagain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beagain/gifts).



> For beartes, who I think is no longer on this site, but inspired this story.
> 
> Prompt: ninteen-year old Albus travels foward in time, founds Regulus in the cave and saves his life.

There was a cave as black as the mouth of a monster. Inside the cave was a lake that stunk of rotten flesh, decomposition, and death. In front of that lake, stood Albus, mind reeling with confusion.

The last thing he remembered was going to bed, his heart bleeding in his chest for the loss of his sister and his gut twisting with unbearable guilt for it was all his fault. It was his fault he now was without any love left in the world, with his parents and sister gone forever, a brother who would never forgive him, and with the realization that Gellert’s love had been nothing but a cold deception. And if he’d had a broken family before, now he had none. The night after Ariana’s funeral he’d crawled into his bad, hoping to never wake up again.

But he’d woken up immediately, the moment he fell asleep.

He’d woken up in this cave, in the middle of a little island surrounded by a vast, dark lake, wondering if it was all a lucid dream or if he’d somehow Apparated here while sleeping. And there was that stench, of putrid water, of decaying and the last thing Albus wanted was to go near that water... and yet he felt like he had to: he was certain that something of the utmost importance was beneath the filthy surface of the lake, as if his wand had just dropped in there and he had to retrieve it at all cost. There was a pull, a siren call, which was becoming impossible to fight.

So he stuck his arm inside the water, ignoring the smell and the bitter cold. Something clammy grazed against his elbow sending shivers of disgust down his spine. But it wasn’t enough, whatever was calling for him wasn’t just beneath the surface. So Albus took a deep breath and dived into the lake. There was complete darkness all around him, the freezing water was sticking into his muscles like nails. Albus raised his hand, flames bursting from his palm, burning even underwater, and what he saw before his eyes was the most disturbing scenery he’d ever witnessed.

Corpses upon corpses, emaciated and rotting away, with empty eye sockets and half-eaten faces. Inferi. Albus recognized them only because he’d seen them in books before, but could not understand why they were not attacking him. One body stood out from the rest, it wasn’t decaying, it was as pristine as if he’d been alive just a few seconds before. It was the body of a youth, nestled in the bundle of corpses. Albus swam towards him, knowing instinctively that this was the reason he’d dived into the lake. He grabbed him by the waist and resurfaced.

***

There was green liquid coming out of the boy in rivers, from his eyes, his ears, his nose. Albus didn’t know what to do besides muttering _Anapneo_ again and again, his hand firm on the youth’s chest. It was a miracle the boy was still alive, with all that poison he’d ingested and the time he’d spent underwater. He was unconscious, gasping for breath, but he was getting better and better as Albus purged his body with magic. He was a slim youth, pale as a sheet and with black-coal hair, handsome even in that squalid state.

“Can you hear me?” Albus said, almost surprised to hear his own voice, still unsure if this was all a dream or reality.

Dark grey eyes fluttered open, moist with green poison. They slowly set on Albus' face before closing again.

Albus kept on tending to him, for what seemed like hours, with a thousand questions running through his brain. Until suddenly everything around him vanished, disappearing as silently as a soap bubble exploding. He woke up in his bed, his mind gifting him one blessed moment of drowsiness before the memory of his sister’s death sunk into his heart like an arrow, making him twist in his bed-sheets.

Of the cave, the boy, the lake and the Inferi he couldn’t remember one thing. His dream had escaped his mind before he could give it any form.

***

Regulus hadn’t died, which meant he was still a Death Eater, which meant he still had to answer his master whenever he summoned him.

At the moment, Regulus was sitting on his bed, his eyes locked on the black, blazing Dark Mark on his forearm, his mind a dizzy whirl of panic and uncertainty, wondering if the Dark Lord had already found out about his betrayal, wondering if he was being summoned to his own execution.

Just the day before he’d woken up in the cave, his body so weak he’d almost fainted as he’d staggered to his feet. He had no idea how he’d survived the Inferi, his survival hadn’t been part of the plan. The only explanation he had was accidental magic: he’d Apparated out of the Inferi grasp, somehow… even if it was impossible to Apparate inside the cave. And even if his magic, accidental or not, shouldn’t have worked against his will: Regulus had been quite resolute in his decision to die, so why would he accidentally save his own life? He had no true explanation for what had happened. The only thing he remembered was a delusion, a fever hallucination: the face of a youth with pristine blue eyes.

Or maybe that wasn’t a hallucination at all, maybe that boy had saved him after all... but how unlikely that was. Who would have known Regulus was in danger? Nobody knew about his imminent death if not for Kreacher; nobody knew about the cave beside Regulus, his elf, and Voldemort.

And speaking of the Dark Lord, Regulus’arm was still scorching painfully, the Dark Mark had become even darker against his pale skin. Regulus had to answer his master’s call, he knew escaping was impossible: as long as this mark was on his arm he could never hide or run away from Voldemort. But if Regulus had been ready to die just the day before, he wasn’t sure he was ready for the humiliation and agony of an execution by the hands of the Dark Lord. He’d witnessed with his own eyes how Voldemort killed those who betrayed him. The spectacle had made his stomach twist with nausea for days.

But if he chose to ignore his master’s call, it would mean agony and humiliation anyway.

So, feeling like he was heading to the gallows, he grabbed the black mantle of the Death Eater which he thought he’d never seen again, and draped it over his shoulders. He was still trapped, despite everything he’d done, he was still trapped in this accursed life.

***

To stand in front of the Dark Lord was like to stand in front of a wild beast that could strike at any moment, without a word warning. Without giving you any possibility to defend yourself. When you stood in front of the Dark Lord, your life was in his hands. So it was almost impossible not to feel scared and vulnerable. Only those who were mad -like Bella- or those who were as powerful as him -like Dumbledore- could look at him in the eyes and not tremble.

So Regulus was scared, always, but he’d learned how to push the feeling aside, to leave it for later when he could afford to be numb with fear. It was adrenaline and concentration he needed the most when he was kneeling in front of the Dark Lord, because he had to use Occlumency to hide the fact that he hated being here, hated being a Death Eater. And now, before anything else, he had to hide the fact that Dark Lord’s Horcrux was in his possession. His life depended on his ability to stay focus, to look at everything from the outside, as if it wasn’t happening to him.

“Rise.”

Regulus got to his feet, body tense as a bowstring. His gaze met eyes, red like pits in hell. He shuddered as if he’d been plunged into freezing water. He lowered his gaze to the ground.

“Do you know why I summoned you here?”

The voice of his master was like a blade inside a velvet glove.

“No, my Lord,” he answered, slowly, clamping down on his anguish

“Your service has been greatly appreciated,” the Dark Lord said in his ice-cold, rustling voice. Regulus was so confused his thought broke through his Occlumency’s shields: _What service?_

“Your elf,” the Dark Lord explained, eyes narrowing. “I see,” he continued after a long pause. “The creature mustn’t have been of importance to you if you were so quick to forget about it... Good, you won’t have it back. It did not survive the experiment I put it through.”

He was smiling, and Regulus realized he’d never seen the Dark Lord so self-satisfied. He stared at the floor, without saying a word, holding his breath as a realization hit him. So _this_ was the reason the Dark Lord had summoned him here: he only wanted to tell him that he’d killed -or rather- tried to kill Kreacher, without even admitting it had always been his intention to do so. And so pleased he was to give Regulus the good news, the bastard.

“You seem upset,” the Dark Lord said, very slowly and dangerously.

Regulus swallowed, clearing his mind from his righteous indignation. This was good, he thought, it meant the Dark Lord knew nothing of his betrayal, it meant Regulus wouldn’t be killed horrifically, at least not today.

“He was a useful creature,” he stated, without emotion.

“I’m sure you can buy a new one.”

Reg kept his eyes lowered to the ground and smothered the angry thought raising in his mind _, You fucking bastard!_

“If it’s of any consolation to you, know that it died serving a noble cause,” added the Dark Lord.

Regulus dared to glance at his master’s face. Voldemort looked simply triumphant... and why shouldn’t he be? He was winning the war, nobody seemed capable of truly stopping him. And now, he was also immortal… But not for much longer, Regulus was gonna destroy that locket, if it was the last thing he did.

***

He remembered how his father had smiled and winked at him one last time before the Aurors took him away. Albus had been only eleven at the time, but smart enough to understand that he was never going to see his father again. Children were not allowed in Azkaban. It seemed like the world turned upside down that day.

After a couple of months, when he set foot into Hogwarts for the first time, he’d soon discovered that he should have been the one on the other side of the classroom, behind the teachers’ desk: when it came to magic, there was no one at Hogwarts as skillful and powerful as him, not even the professors nor the headmaster could ever hope to match his talent. If Albus hadn’t felt arrogant while entertaining these thoughts, it was only because to him it wasn’t arrogance at all, but simple, honest-to-God truth. And since he was better than anyone, people should learn from him, not vice versa.

The second thing he’d discovered was that all the students were predictable and boring. As he’d walked along the corridors, Albus could see all their silly thoughts fluttering inside their limited brains like moths trapped in a lamp: everyone either envied him or put him on a pedestal. Even some of the professors looked at him with greed in their eyes, fully aware of his incredible potential and plotting ways to leech on to it like the parasites they were. Even so, Albus had never resented his Legilimancy skills, no matter how terribly annoyed he always was at everyone’s thoughts, at least he knew for sure it wasn’t worth trying to befriend anyone. Besides, Albus didn’t care: the only companion he’d only wanted and needed was his magic.

And yet, as the years went by, many students considered themselves to be his friends, even if Albus had never truly opened his heart to anyone. Nobody knew his father was rotting away in Azkaban. Nobody knew his sister would have been caged as well if anyone discovered what she was. Nobody knew his mother risked her life on a daily basis taking care of her. Nobody knew Albus was mad at the world all the damn time. A polite word from him had been enough for people to consider themselves his friends, but the truth was that he didn’t care about anyone. And there as no one at Hogwarts who truly knew him. Except for his brother Aberforth, who was so uncouth and ignorant Albus had always wondered how it was even possible they shared the same parents.

He’d just finished his studies when his mother died. From one day to another, he became the head of the family, which meant he was his duty to do what his mother had been doing in secret for the past seven years. Ariana had grown and her Obscurial with her and she had a mind of a six-year old even though she was fourteen now. Albus took care of her, accepting this sacrifice, yes, but with such a black displeasure in his heart. Someone like him, with so much magic at his disposal, could be so much more than a nanny.

Then there was Gellert.

Gellert, who never looked at Albus with envy or blind admiration in his eyes because he stood on his same level. He was powerful as him, smart as him. A prodigy like him. And for the first time in his life, Albus felt like he found someone worthy of his trust, respect, and friendship. And Albus gave him all that, and his heart and soul as well. Him and Gellert, together, they could conquer them all, Albus was sure of that.

Then Ariana died, Albus’ world turned upside down once again. In a second he went from feeling like a god ready to take over the world, to the worst scum of the earth. Gellert gave him the lesson of his life that day, taught him more than all his former professors put together. He broke his heart and Albus learned he’d never been smart as he always thought, nor as powerful. Quite the opposite, he was as vulnerable as a child.


End file.
